


The Last Mile

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Daniel find their relationship tested by unwelcome changes</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Mile

**Author's Note:**

> Goes AU when Jack takes command of the SGC

The Last Mile

If there was one thing Jack found disconcerting about Brightman, it was his inability to read her. He’d spent enough years around Fraiser that he could tell what she was going to say just by looking at her. Spine ramrod straight meant ‘we’re doing everything we can’. Slightly slumped meant ‘we won this one – barely.’ A slight twinkle in her expressive eyes meant ‘we’ll be keeping you or Daniel or Sam or insert name here overnight because I’m the doctor and I’m in charge, so there.’ A devilish gleam meant ‘have you been eating Krispy Kremes again’?

“And I’d like to have Dr. Jackson seen by a pulmonologist at the Academy Hospital.”

Jack jolted back to awareness; talk about burying your lead, she waited until the end of the daily medical briefing to mention that? “And why?”

“Partly because of the serious nature of his latest allergy attack.” Jack shuddered to think what would have happened if Nyan hadn’t needed Daniel that afternoon, only to find him unconscious on the lab floor, gasping for breath. If his collapse had happened on an alien world, miles from the gate. “And I’m concerned about the cumulative effects of a lifetime of allergic reactions combined with the unknown factor of alien allergens. Years of breathing the air on other planets, the dust on the artifacts brought to Earth. All those factors have made his lungs more fragile than I’m comfortable with. Until I’m satisfied with his lung capacity, I cannot, in good conscience, medically release Dr. Jackson.”

“How long?” Jack doodled on his notes, trying to appear unconcerned.

“At least until I see the test results. If possible, he should stay off base for a few days.”

“That sounds pretty drastic.”

“His latest attack was severe and was here, on base. I think it would be helpful if he breathed some fresh, unrecycled air for a few days. At least until I can get him in to see Dr. Osborne. I’m not barring him from working; if there’s something he can work on at home from his notes or photographs, I wouldn’t object to that.”

“Make the appointment.” Jack decided. “I’ll talk to him, send him home.”

“Thank you, General O’Neill.” The slightly quirked lips showed that she had a sense of humor after all.

*

“Oh, that’s ridiculous!” Daniel slammed around his office.

“Not in her eyes, Daniel. And it’s only for a few days. Take the time, work if you absolutely have to but why not think of it as a vacation? Read just for the hell of it, lie around the house.” Jack lowered his voice. “And you can keep the home fires burning for some poor old General.”

“Jack.”

“Daniel, I know she’s not Fraiser but give her a break. If she’s erring on the side of caution, I’m not going to complain about it since it is your health we’re talking about here. So, pack it up and go home. That’s an order.” Jack stopped at the door. “Daniel.”

Daniel met his gaze. “I know, Jack.”

*

Jack wasn’t sure what he’d find when he eased open the door but he hoped Daniel’d had enough time to get over his mad spell. He took a moment and sniffed. Something smelled very good – and very garlicky- and Jack followed the scent to the kitchen. “Oh,” he moaned as he took a peek in the oven where a fat lasagna was bubbling away.

Grabbing a beer, he set off on a Daniel-hunt. He didn’t have to look far. Stepping out the kitchen door, he saw Daniel sprawled on a lounge chair. “Hey, what’s the occasion?”

“Hmm?” Daniel lifted his face for Jack’s kiss.

“Lasagna. Not that I’m complaining because, believe me, I’m not.”

“Oh, I thought since I had all this extra time, I might as well stop at the store. The deli had fresh garlic bread and one thing led to another.”

“Like I said, not complaining.” Neither one of them was a great cook but Daniel had a killer lasagna recipe from his first foster mother. Jack pulled his lounger closer before stretching out. “I could get used to this. Coming home to a cold beer and a hot meal.”

“Don’t,” Daniel warned. “Tomorrow it’s liable to be grilled cheese and Campbell’s soup.”

“I’ll still take it.” Jack took a long satisfying drink. “Brightman got your appointment yet?”

“Next Thursday.”

“So, at least another week?”

“I don’t now what I’m supposed to do for ten whole days.”

“Sleep in, read, watch bad television.”

“And exactly how long do you think I can do that before losing my mind?”

Jack made a study of looking at his watch. “At least ‘til next Thursday.”

*

They both made it through the next ten days, although Jack personally thought he deserved a medal for putting up with a pissy, bored Daniel. He did quite a few things of which Jack approved, like digging out the Kindle Sam had gotten him for Christmas and downloading an insane amount of books and magazines on it. He finally got around to unboxing all the books that had been sitting around for ages; the den got a good cleaning and got re-arranged as a result. A ton of old, dusty books were sent back to base and Jack reluctantly allowed some Geographics to go out to the garage.

And he had time to pay attention to Jack, something of which Jack was never going to object. There was cold beer in the refrigerator, usually something in the oven and Daniel was waiting to give him a welcome home kiss. There was time for quiet talks over dinner, long evening walks and lazy bed-time lovemaking.

Yes, Jack decided, he could get used to this kind of life.

*

Daniel had sworn he’d call as soon as he left the Academy Hospital and Jack had to be satisfied with that. It wasn’t like he could take the day off to go with Daniel; later, he would bitterly regret that decision.

“O’Neill.” He picked up the phone, shifting it under his chin and continuing to sign off on requisitions.

“General O’Neill, this is Dr. Brightman. Have you spoken to Dr. Jackson today?”

Jack glanced at the time on the phone and swore. “Not since this morning. He was supposed to call after he saw Osborne.”

“I just spoke to Dr. Osborne. He said that Dr. Jackson was upset when he left the office.”

Jack’s heart lurched. “Why? What happened?”

She sighed. “Dr. Osborne believes Dr. Jackson should be permanently removed from Gate rotation.”

“What?” Jack dug his cell out, making sure he hadn’t missed a call from Daniel. He hadn’t.

“His lungs are more damaged than we’d originally thought...”

“I’ll get back to you.” Jack interrupted, frantically dialing Daniel’s numbers. And getting no response. “Dammit,” he abruptly hung up, shouting, “Walter!”

*

Jack was nothing but relieved when he pulled in the driveway, tires squealing in the early afternoon quiet, to find Daniel’s truck in the garage. He fumbled his seatbelt and the doors in his hurry to get in the house. “Daniel?” A quick search found Daniel sitting in the living room. Just sitting in the darkened room. “Daniel.” Jack sat on the coffee table. “Why the hell didn’t you call me?”

Daniel slowly looked up, focusing on Jack with a puzzled expression. “Jack? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing? You get bad news from the doc and you don’t call me? What are you playing at, Daniel?”

“I knew you were busy.” His voice was flat.

“Give me a break. I’m not so busy that I don’t want to know that you’re sick.”

“Not sick, Jack. I don’t have emphysema. I’m just a likely candidate to develop it.” The information was offered like Daniel was saying he had poison ivy.

“And you didn’t think I’d want to know that? Goddammit, Daniel, sometimes I just don’t know what goes on in your head!” Daniel just looked away. Jack forced himself to calm, to sit again, to get in Daniel’s face. “Don’t shut me out. For better or worse, right?” He joked weakly.

“I don’t….I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.” Daniel finally spoke.

“We,” Jack leaned forward, tapped Daniel’s chin up so that their eyes met. “Not I, we. In this together, remember? Tell me exactly what he said.” Daniel leaned forward, rested his forehead on Jack’s chest and recounted the tests he’d endured, the doctor’s diagnosis. “Okay, so you might develop emphysema?”

“He said if I quit going through the gate, I probably wouldn’t.” He sat back, kept his eyes on the hands still gripping Jack’s shirt, not meeting Jack’s gaze.

“Okay, so you don’t go through the gate anymore.” He stopped Daniel from interrupting. “I can live with that.”

“I’m not sure I can, Jack.” He finally admitted.

“Are you willing to take the chance on your life? Because I’m not.” Even though he hated it, Jack had to make the offer. “We’ll get a second opinion if you need it?”

Daniel blew out a breath. “That would be grasping at straws and we both know it. Between them, they can keep me off a team.” Neither one mentioned that Jack could do the same.

“So you stay on this side of the gate. Translate stuff, run me ragged and keep your health. I’m calling it a win.” Jack paused. “How long did he think this had been going on?”

“Probably six months or better.”

Jack winced; he’d grown so accustomed to hearing Daniel breathing in the bed next to him that he hadn’t paid much attention to the sounds Daniel often made. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”

Daniel’s brow furrowed. “You’re sorry?”

“I realize I’ve gotten used to hearing you breathe and I never thought about how wheezy you get sometimes. And maybe more than just sometimes. And how you don’t use your inhaler like you should. That’s gotta change, Daniel. We’ll get someone in here to look at the ventilation system. If we need to upgrade, we will. I’ll have Siler go over your office, see what we can do to improve the air in there. Whatever we need to do, we do. Together.” Daniel sighed, silently accepting the rebuke.

Jack continued. “But you gotta change too. No more keeping stuff like this to yourself. You had to know your breathing had changed and you should have said something. To me and to Brightman. I know she’s not Fraiser but you have to tell her, you have to be honest with her. She’s on your side, Daniel, and you have to let her help you.”

*

Jack would have liked nothing better than to stay home and pet on Daniel for the rest of the afternoon but he had to return to the mountain. He called Walter on the way back to carve out some time for him to see Brightman and Siler.

*

“Actually, sir, Dr. Jackson’s situation has raised a valid point about ventilation here.” Siler offered.

“It would be a good time to look at how the entire SGC may have been affected.” Brightman made a note.

“Okay. Siler can you get with…whoever does that kind of thing and take a look at the entire ventilation system?”

“Paying special attention to Dr. Jackson’s office, sir?”

“Please. Dr. Brightman, find out how many respiratory issues have come up, medically, in the past…say, six months. Just give me an idea if there’s been more than usual.”

“Yes, sir.” She hesitated as they all rose. “May I ask how Dr. Jackson is?”

Jack shrugged. “I’m not sure at the moment.”

*

Jack didn’t get back home as early as he’d liked; his afternoon rush home had put him hopelessly behind. Something was baking in the oven when he got his usual beer out of the refrigerator. He peeked at what appeared to be some kind of casserole.

“Hey,” Daniel sneaked in behind him. Jack turned for a more protracted than usual hug and kiss.

“You okay?”

“Still dealing, you know?” Daniel glanced at the oven timer. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Come on,” Jack towed him into the living room and onto the couch where he promptly pulled him close.

“Teal’c stopped by.” Daniel murmured. He hadn’t even questioned how Teal’c had found out.

“Yeah?” Jack was idly stroking Daniel’s hair. “What’d the big guy have to say?”

“Oh, you know Teal’c. Basically told me to get over myself. ‘Your continued good health is of the greater importance, Daniel Jackson.’ Stuff like that.”

Jack grinned. “I like his way of cutting through the bull.”

“Hmm.” Daniel contemplated. “How did you handle it? When you got grounded?”

“I knew it was coming, you know? And…it had already been a rough year anyway.” General Hammond had moved to DC right after Daniel descended and Jack had moved up to command of the SGC at the time. He hadn’t objected as getting Daniel back had forced him to take a good look at himself and his life.

And he hadn’t been particularly happy with what he’d seen. So he set out to change that. He began to slowly court Daniel, who didn’t have an idea why Jack was suddenly asking him over for dinner, taking him to concerts in the park, listening when he spoke.

Then losing Frasier had flattened them all. Jack held her wake at his house and Daniel hadn’t left after everyone else had. He’d stayed, too shaken to go home, huddled in Jack’s arms all night. Two weeks later, Daniel had come slamming over one evening, having finally figured out what was going on. There’d been some shouting; actually a lot of it, mostly from Daniel. Then there’d been some kissing, leading to an astonished silence from Daniel. And Daniel had stayed.

It hadn’t been easy; they were basically lying to every one they knew. Daniel still kept his apartment and occasionally stayed there. Most of his clothes and things were at the house. He’d listed his cell as his principal contact number but that wasn’t out of the ordinary; there were plenty of people these days who didn’t even have land line phones.  
It had worked so far.

*

Jack wasn’t surprised that Daniel had gone to bed early and without inviting him to follow. Jack followed his normal routine, made sure everything was locked down, the alarm was on and the DVR was recording away.

Daniel was on his side of the bed, back turned away, Jack’s lamp on low. Jack finished up in the bathroom, slid in bed, turned off the lamp. Without hesitating, he rolled over, and snaked his arm around Daniel’s waist. “I am so, so sorry, Daniel. I know this is hard and you haven’t had time to process this but I promise this is something you and I can handle together.” Pressing a kiss to the back of Daniel’s head, he just held on to the trembling body of the man he loved. And waited.

“I’m sorry.” Daniel’s voice crumbled.

“Never, ever, EVER, apologize for being yourself, Daniel. You’re upset, you’re hurt and you’re scared. That’s okay. And it’s okay to express that.” Jack smiled inwardly at the thought of how damned supportive he’d gotten to be. He still hated doing the talking thing but he’d do it now, for Daniel. For them. That had been the one fence that Sara had struggled to breach; Daniel had plowed it over in a frighteningly short time.

Daniel suddenly rolled so that they were face to face, no longer trying to hide the tears. “Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary.” Jack kissed the tip of Daniel’s nose because he could and because it always annoyed Daniel. “Reason I’m here, remember?” Gauging that he wouldn’t be rebuffed, he snuggled Daniel into his embrace, hooking one leg over Daniel to draw him even closer. “You might have to return the favor next week.”

“Yeah?” Daniel relaxed into Jack’s arms.

“Yeah, I got a dentist appointment Tuesday morning.”

*

Jack wasn’t too surprised to find an email announcing a visit from General Hammond later in the week; he’d pretty much expected that as soon as the memo about Daniel made it up the beanstalk. He made a note in his calendar, not altogether trusting the computer to remember to tell him.

The day progressed normally, as normal as life could be when you were signing maternity leaves and off-world mission schedules and purchase reqs for potatoes and paper and grenades. Carter had asked for some of his time this afternoon to check out an experiment she was conducting; she was using SG-1’s down time to finish up some things Jack didn’t understand and didn’t really want to understand.

*

Jack and SG-1 were front and center when General Hammond entered the briefing room on Thursday afternoon. There was a flurry of handshakes and milling around the coffeepot until they were all seated around the table.

“First off, Dr. Jackson, how are you?”

“Fine, sir.” The general just looked at him steadily, patiently. “Okay, not fine, but getting there.”

“I understand this has been a serious blow, Dr. Jackson, but I have to agree with Dr. Brightman. If continued gate travel is going to endanger your future health, then we’re going to do what’s prudent and keep you on this side. To that end, I have a couple of announcements to make,” he glanced at the SGC’s most incomprehensible team. “The President has signed an Executive Order retiring the designation SG-1.”

“Wow.” Jack whistled. Teal’c gave him an inquiring look. “It’s a big deal, Teal’c. Trust me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sam spoke up. “We’re very flattered.”

“Don’t thank me; you’ve earned it, all of you. I just wish I’d thought of it myself. General Vidrine suggested it. The President would like to see the four of you in DC as soon as we can work it out. He’d like to thank you in person and he’d like to make a request of Dr. Jackson.”

“General, if he’s thinking about transferring Daniel, I’d like to lodge my objection right now.” Jack inserted.

General Hammond held up his hand. “The President thinks Dr. Jackson is exactly where he needs to be. However, the Pentagon has, at the President’s request, submitted a scenario for revealing the Stargate program to the public. There are two things we’d like to see in place prior to that happening. One is a comprehensive history of the Stargate program.”

“Which is where Daniel comes in,” Jack speculated.

“I can think of no one more qualified to write the history of this program than the man who defined the program, can you?”

“General,” Daniel stuttered. “I’m not a writer.”

“We don’t want a writer, what we want is someone who can effectively tell the story, someone who can convince the public that this has been a gamble worth taking.”

“Sell the program.” Jack nodded. “Not a bad idea, sir.”

“This may not happen during this administration or even the next but the President believes we need to start laying the groundwork. And that leads to the second reason I’m here. The President is interested in devoting a future wing of the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum to the Stargate program.” There was an astonished silence. “It has been brought to my attention that we are probably housing here, in this facility, artifacts,” he smiled at Daniel, “of one of the greatest space missions known to this planet. We owe it to the rest of the world to preserve and display that history. So we are also asking Dr. Jackson to identify, photograph and tag the artifacts that should go to the Smithsonian.”

Sam was the first to find her voice. “Sir, that would be a massive undertaking.”

“We’re aware of that, Major. This is going to require input from all of you. Teal’c will be helping Dr. Jackson tell the story of the Jaffa. Major, you will be explaining the technical aspects of just how the ‘gate works. General O’Neill...”

Jack waved a negligent hand. “I’ll ride shotgun over the kids. Same old, same old.”

“Actually, the Air Force would like to ascertain their part in the program is presented in a suitable manner.”

“Kind of give the ‘soaring through space’ a whole new meaning, sir?”

“As a recruitment tool, I can imagine there would be many pilots who’d like to get a crack at some of the aircraft you’ve been privileged to fly.”

Jack grinned; that was true, he’d flown some pretty sweet birds….out there.

“We need to tell this story. And we need it told by the people who know it best. That’s you, people. So, the President would like Dr. Jackson to begin compiling an accurate, comprehensive history of the program, starting with Dr. David Langford’s discovery of the gate in 1928.”

He gave them a moment to think about it. “I repeat that this may take time, but it is going to happen.”

*

Sam, Teal’c and Daniel left Jack and Hammond talking about SGC business and by unspoken accord, gathered in Daniel’s office. They were silent as Daniel brewed coffee, poured two cups, got Teal’c a bottle of water from the refrigerator, pausing to look inside.

“Daniel Jackson, you appear to be troubled.” Teal’c deftly nipped the water from his hand.

“I just realized this is a full-sized refrigerator and I don’t even remember replacing the little one I used to have.” Daniel looked confused.

“Two weeks ago,” Sam contributed. They both looked at her with raised eyebrows. “After you…when they found out about your lungs, the general…well, he had the one in my lab replaced with a big one, too. I asked him and he said if we were going to spend,” she quirked her fingers in the air, “’our whole damned lives stuck in a lab, we could at least eat some fresh food every once in a while.’ It’s actually pretty handy; some of the staff have started bringing their lunch since we’ve got some place to keep it. Mine gets stocked with Jell-o at least twice a week. I’m guessing yours has coffee beans and cream. And probably some fruit.”

Sweet wasn’t a word one often used regarding Jack O’Neill but Sam thought it was nice of the general to replace the small refrigerators with full-sized ones. No one knew better than SG-1 what a right bastard O’Neill could be but the flip side of the coin was that once he loved you, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you, or nothing he wouldn’t do to those who hurt you.

Sam knew that if there was one thing O’Neill hated, it would be feeling helpless. He couldn’t fix Daniel’s lungs or make it possible for him to go back into the field but he fixed what he could. Sam was willing to bet the money for both appliances had come out of O’Neill’s own account and not the SGC’s budget. It really was rather sweet.

Daniel opened the door to stare again, closing it with a shake of the head. “I know Jack thinks I don’t pay attention to stuff, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell him that I hadn’t…”

“Noticed?” Teal offered.

“Yeah, that would be good.” Daniel grinned as he sat.

“So, we’re writing the history of the SGC. This is kind of exciting.” Sam admitted.

“It is.” Daniel agreed. “Teal’c, did you ever think you’d be telling the story of the Jaffa?”

“I did not, Daniel Jackson. But I welcome the opportunity to do so. This undertaking is something to which I will be pleased to contribute.”

Sam rose to poke through Daniel’s newly discovered fridge. “SG-1 writes a book.” She grabbed an orange, shaking her head. “That’s bound to be someone’s idea of a nightmare.”

“Probably Jack’s.” Daniel bit his lip, suppressing an answering smile.

“Payback, as they say…” Teal’c stated. Daniel couldn’t stifle the snort and before they knew it, they were all laughing.

 

*

Saturday was one of those clear, crisp September days that lulled you into thinking winter weren’t just around the next corner. Jack checked on the chicken he was grilling, keeping an ear open for Daniel to get home. He’d finally given in to Jack’s nagging and was getting the tires replaced on his truck. Jack had frowned the last time he’d driven Daniel’s truck because he hadn’t liked the way the tires were wearing. Daniel swore he’d only had the tires a couple of years; Jack checked the tread and thought it was closer to five years.

They’d finally compromised: Jack picked out new tires and Daniel had paid for them over Jack’s objections. It gave Jack a pain in his stomach to think of Daniel not having what he needed, when he remembered how destitute Daniel had been. If Jack had his way, he’d be buying Daniel all kinds of completely useless things.

He was just turning off the grill when he heard the garage door opening. Perfect timing, he thought, as he set the platter down and started plating the food. The door slid open and Daniel stuck out his head. “Need anything?”

“Yeah, grab us a beer, will ya?” Daniel disappeared back into the house.

Daniel checked out his loaded plate as he sat down. “That looks great.” Jack’s idea of a piece of chicken was more like a half a chicken per person. Besides the chicken, there was grilled vegetables and garlic bread.

“So what’d Stu say about the tires?”

“You were right; he said they were on their last legs.” Daniel swiped at the sauce on his face. “I swear I only got them a couple of years ago.”

“You need to write that kind of stuff down,” Jack said, stifling the urge to criticize. “Use that checkbook thing on the computer. That way you can break expenses down, see how much you’re spending on stuff like your truck and clothes and stuff. And how much you’re saving.” Daniel nodded thoughtfully. Retirement was a touchy subject lately but he knew Jack’s concern was born of love.

They ate in a companionable silence. “I’m meeting Joe Pearson this afternoon.” Jack said suddenly.

“Your lawyer?”

“Changing my will.” Jack pushed his plate away, leaned back in his seat.

“Jack?” Daniel started in surprise, wondering if Jack had been reading his mind.

“If I dropped dead right now, you wouldn’t be entitled to anything. That’s not right. I want to make sure you get the house. Want another?” Without waiting for Daniel’s answer, he grabbed the empties and stepped into the house.

“Jack,” Daniel started as soon as he returned.

“Daniel. Sara’s taken care of, trust me. I want you to have the house; I don’t want you to have to sell this place or lose it because of the damned estate. You’re already in my will; I’m just doing what’s right.”

Daniel toyed with the food on his plate. “I…”

“If you say you don’t have anything to give me, I’m sticking this beer bottle down your throat. That isn’t what this is about, who has more than whom. I want to think of you here, in this house, in our house.”

“I could come over there and kiss your brains out,” Daniel’s voice trembled slightly.

“Yeah?” Jack’s dark eyes taunted him.

“Why don’t we clean this stuff up and go inside?” Daniel suggested.

“Good idea.” They started picking up plates and utensils. “And you can tell me about the book you’re gonna write. I’m thinking what we need is a nice book of really slick pictures of all these cool ships we’ve flown.”

Daniel paused in the middle of opening the French doors. “You want to do a coffee table book about alien aircraft?”

“Perfect Christmas present for the guy who has everything.” Jack crowed as he walked past. Daniel shut the door behind him, very much afraid that Jack had already decided how to present the idea to the Air Force.

*

Daniel cleaned up the kitchen while Jack went to the lawyer’s office. He knew Jack had known Joe since the divorce, that he’d help settle things with Sara and Jack, that the other man was friend as well as lawyer. Being a lawyer, he had to be discreet but Daniel couldn’t help but wonder what he thought about Jack leaving the house to another man.

*

“You know,” Jack handed Daniel his coffee before slumping in the seat beside him. “I thought when I took over the SGC, it’d be my last command.”

“Yeah?” Daniel propped his feet on the railing, enjoying the late evening still.

“I figured the next seat I’d be warming was on a dock somewhere, drowning a few worms. Now I find out, I have to help write a book.” He groused lightly.

“That’s not my fault!” Daniel thought he detected a bit of a tone.

“It is all your fault! I’m blaming you for all the hours I’m gonna have to spend researching and trying to remember the schematics of all those planes and, you know, flying things.”

“You should have been there when I dropped the bomb on my staff about artifact archiving.” Daniel sounded very unsympathetic to either plight.

“This was supposed to be the last mile for us, Daniel.”

Daniel eyed him. “We can’t say no, Jack.”

“Well, we could, but it wouldn’t be pretty.”

“Can you really retire and sit around all day?”

“I could!”

“Yeah, right.” Daniel watched the sun sink below the horizon. “So…?”

Jack sighed heavily. “I guess we need to think of a name for this damned book.”


End file.
